Features
JRJ’s second term and aftermath
(Excerpted from volume ii of the Sarath Amunugama autobiography)
I left Sri Lanka to join Asian Media and Communication Centre (AMIC) in Singapore in March 1982. It was a short tenure as I had to report for duty in UNESCO, Paris in September that year. So, I was in Paris when the second Presidential election was held in Sri Lanka. Though the Presidential election under the new constitution was due in 1983 following a six-year term, the President with his penchant to spring political surprises as part of his tactics, announced that it would be held in October 1982 and immediately launched his reelection campaign.
When I spent a few days in Colombo in early September, en route to Paris, JRJ’s campaign was getting into full swing. As anticipated by the President the Opposition was in disarray. Since Mrs. B was disqualified and the SLFP was badly split there was no wholehearted support for a strong contender from the party. Several factions within the SLFP were in fact supporting JRJ.
A party stalwart Kal ugalle left the party and appeared on the President’s election platform. Maitripala Senanayake was lukewarm. Eventually the party nominated left of centre Kandyan, Hector Kobbekaduwa. I remember meeting my old boss, T.B. Illangaratne, about this time. He was disappointed with the SLFP for ignoring his claims for the nomination as he was senior to Kobbekaduwa, being a founder member of the SLFP. This was the reason for his later resignation from the party that he helped to build from its inception and sacrificed much for.
On the other hand, Mrs. B and her son Anura were displeased that an alternative leader was in the offing. This was made clear when Anura made the unwarranted statement that Kobbekaduwa was only ‘a contractor’ whose job was to win and bring Mrs. B back to power. This was playing right into the hands of JRJ.
To make matters worse a section of the Left decided to go on their own. Colvin R de Silva [LSSP], Vasudeva Nanayakkara [NLSSP] and Rohana Wijeweera [JVP] opted to contest and effectively sabotaged the chances of Kobbekaduwa. Only the Communist Party and a group of SLFPers led by Vijaya Kumaratunga and Chandrika supported by Illangaratne and Ratnasiri Wickremanayake backed Kobbekaduwa and in effect ran his campaign.
Surprisingly, and unanticipated by JRJ, the Kobbekaduwa camp began to gather momentum and worried JRJ who had experience of a similar ‘surge’ against the unassailable UNP in 1956. As mentioned before JR was not a man to forget. He later gave short shrift to those who stood in the way of his well-planned strategy for re-election.
As the contest heated up the radical elements in Kobbekaduwa’s campaign began to use the language of violence, perhaps to strengthen the resolve of their supporters. The old left knew how to use bloodcurdling threats which everybody knew was part of their theatrics. Kobbekaduwa’s speakers, some of whom had a JVP background, were not so subtle and their threats to ‘swim in the blood of the capitalists’ and particularly the UNP leaders, was carefully noted for future use.
Though Kobbekaduwa’s campaign was gathering steam in the country they ran out of time and money. But out of this campaign a new hero emerged. It was not Kobbekaduwa but Vijaya Kumaratunga who became the focal point of the resistance to the UNP, replacing the old left, the JVP and even the the group over which Mrs. B presided hoping to secure the succession for her son Anura.
As the undoubted emerging hero Vijaya attracted not only the support of the radicals but the hatred of the UNP, the JVP and parts of the SLFP. It was a vicious cocktail which he tended to ignore till it became too late. The immediate result was that Vijaya became the focal point of the left and was regarded as the next common candidate of the anti-UNP forces. It was a prospect that Anura and the SLFP rump did not relish and they did their utmost to vilify and sabotage Vijaya.
The aftermath
Though JRJ won the election comfortably as he planned by splitting up the Opposition, the result exposed many of the challenges he would have to face in his second term. He had reason to celebrate as he was the only UNP leader to win an election immediately after his first tenure of office. It was a victory never to be repeated by UNP leaders.
But ominously the north did not vote for him though he won every other province. Many attributed it to Mrs. B’s agrarian policies which favoured the local, particularly the northern, farmer. But it was also a growing indication of the power of the militant Tamil youth. Some of the armed groups like the EPRLF supported Vijaya.
The Sinhala youth segment of the country was turning to Vijaya who was becoming so popular that the LSSP and CP were obliged to hang on his coat tails. JRJ’s nominee to win over the youth, Ranil Wickrem-esinghe, was a hopeless failure. He was an elitist who had to depend on a group of his college friends and relatives to promote him. These friends were no better in the popularity stakes than him. The JVP, which had optimistically hoped for a large poll even if they were to lose, were now impatient and thinking of new ways to capture power. They abandoned their earlier internationalist policies and began to fashion a Sinhala nationalist ‘line’ which was opposed by senior leaders like Lionel Bopage.
In this context JRJ, together with hardliners like Premadasa and Lalith Athulathmudali, pondered his next move. His objective was to continue the reforms he had undertaken in his first term and secure the future of the UNP in the light of the unexpected strength of the Vijaya led resistance and the lack of cooperation of the Tamils who were now being intimidated by the armed groups who were controlled by RAW.
All this had to be weighed against the arbitrary use of power and abuse of human rights which became a major issue for JRJ from now on.In Paris where we followed events keenly and were briefed by Esmond who visited us, we realized that the President was set on a path of confrontation which was to blight his Presidency.
On the advice of Premadasa and Lalith he abandoned the Parliamentary election which was due in 1983 and decided to hold a referendum to extend the life of the Parliament which was elected in 1977. This was an obvious ploy to retain his steamroller majority which could not be assured if a new election was held.
Apart from the loss of popularity of an incumbent regime, JRJ’s own electoral system introduced in his Constitution which called for ‘Proportionate Representation’ [PR] precluded the possibility of the emergence of a large majority in Parliament.
He also called for undated letters of resignation from his MPs. He then ordered a referendum to extend the life of Parliament and threatened the MPs who failed to get a majority of ‘Yes’ votes in their constituencies with dismissal. The referendum itself was flawed. Violence was used to prevent the opposition from garnering a ‘No’ vote. Having had his way by force, JRJ then proceeded to wreak vengeance on all those who gave him a scare in the Presidential election.
Repressive Measures
His first move was to imprison his chief adversaries led by Vijaya Kumaratunga on a spurious charge of Naxalite violence. While there may have been bloodcurdling talk on the election stage it was manifestly clear that Vijaya and his supporters were not in a mood for extra-Parliamentary confrontation and violence. JRJ cast his net wide and arrested radical leftists of the NLSSP, CP and JVP. Some of them like Vijaya were incarcerated under inhuman conditions while others like the JVP went underground.
The stable political environment which prevailed in JRJ’s first term was now in jeopardy. He then turned to the Tamil issue which was becoming more and more of a security problem. He was also nonplussed at his poor performance in the North and had a growing suspicion that the Colombo Tamils were playing a double game, supporting the ‘Boys’ in the North while doing good business in the South thanks to the open economy.
He instructed his nephew the Army Commander ‘Bull’ Weeratunga in Churchillian tones “to wipe out terrorism in the North”. Weeratunga unleashed a reign of terror. A censorship was imposed, and the newspapers were prohibited from publishing the finding of the inquests into the deaths of many young Tamils who were accused of aiding and abetting terrorism. The riots of 1983 and the Weeratunga offensive led to the strengthening of the militants and the decline of the TULF.
Features
High Stakes in Pursuing corruption cases
The death of the most important suspect in the Sri Lankan Airlines Airbus deal has drawn intense public speculation. Kapila Chandrasena the former CEO of the heavily loss-making national airline was found dead under circumstances that the police are still investigating.
He had recently been arrested by the Commission to Investigate Allegations of Bribery or Corruption in connection with the controversial Airbus aircraft purchase agreement signed in 2013. Police investigations are continuing into the cause of death and whether or not he committed suicide. The unresolved death brings to light the high stakes involved in accountability efforts of this nature.
The uncertainty surrounding Chandrasena’s death has revived public memories of other mysterious deaths linked to corruption investigations and public scandals. Among them is the death of Rajeewa Jayaweera, a former SriLankan Airlines executive and outspoken critic of the Airbus transaction. He was following in the tradition of his father, the late foreign service officer and public servant Stanley Jayaweera who mentored the younger generation in good governance practices and formed the group “Avadhi Lanka” along with icons such as Prof Siri Hettige. Rajeewa had written a series of articles exposing irregularities in the deal before he was found dead near Independence Square in Colombo in 2020. The CCTV cameras in that high security area were turned off. Questions raised at that time whether or not he had committed suicide were not satisfactorily resolved.
The controversy about the cause of Chandrasena’s death is diverting attention away from the massive damage done to the country by the SriLankan Airlines deal itself. The value of the aircraft agreement was close to the size of the International Monetary Fund bailout package that Sri Lanka desperately needed by 2023 in order to stabilise the economy after bankruptcy. Sri Lanka’s IMF Extended Fund Facility amounted to about USD 3 billion spread over four years. The comparison shows the scale of the losses and liabilities that irresponsible and corrupt decisions have imposed on the country and which must never happen again.
Wider Pattern
The corruption linked to the Airbus transaction came fully into the open only because of investigations conducted outside Sri Lanka. In 2020 Airbus agreed to pay record penalties of more than EUR 3.6 billion to authorities in Britain, France and the United States to settle global corruption investigations. Sri Lanka was identified as one of the countries where bribes had allegedly been paid in order to secure contracts. The Airbus deal involved the purchase of six A330 aircraft and four A350 aircraft valued at approximately USD 2.3 billion. Investigations showed that Airbus paid bribes amounting to nearly USD 16 million in order to secure the contract. According to court submissions, at least part of this money amounting to USD 2 million was transferred through a shell company registered in Brunei and routed through Singapore bank accounts linked to the late airline CEO and his wife.
The commissions involved in this deal may seem comparatively small compared to the overall value of the contracts but devastating in their consequences. But they also show that a few million dollars paid secretly to decision makers could lead to the country assuming liabilities worth hundreds of millions or even billions of dollars over decades. This is why corruption is not simply a moral issue. It is a direct economic assault on the living standards of ordinary people. Money lost through corruption is money unavailable for schools, hospitals, rural development and job creation. In the end the burden falls on ordinary citizens who are left to repay debts incurred in their name without receiving commensurate benefits in return.
The SriLankan Airlines transaction gives an indication of the wider pattern of corruption and misuse of national resources that has taken place over many years. This was not an isolated incident. There were numerous large scale infrastructure and procurement projects that imposed heavy debts on the country while enriching politically connected individuals and their associates. Other projects such as the Colombo Port City, Hambantota Harbour and highway construction reveal a similar pattern.
Less publicised but equally damaging scandals have involved fertiliser medicine and energy contracts. Investigations into medicine procurement in recent years uncovered allegations that substandard pharmaceuticals had been imported at inflated prices causing both financial losses and risks to public health.
Moral Renewal
The present government appears determined to investigate major corruption cases in a manner that no previous government has attempted. Those who ransacked and bankrupted the treasury need to be dealt with according to the law. There is considerable public support for efforts to recover stolen assets and ensure accountability.
In his May Day speech President Anura Kumara Dissanayake stated that around 14 corruption cases were nearing completion in the courts this very month and called upon the public to applaud when verdicts are delivered. Political opponents of the government claim that such comments could place pressure on the judiciary and blur the separation between political leadership and the courts. But the deeper public frustration that underlies the president’s remarks also needs to be understood.
The challenge facing Sri Lanka is twofold. The country must ensure that justice is done through due process and independent institutions. If anti corruption campaigns become politicised they can lose legitimacy. But if corruption and abuse of power continue without consequences the country will remain trapped in a cycle of economic decline and moral decay. Sri Lanka also needs to confront past abuses linked to the war period. There are allegations of kidnapping, extortion, disappearances and criminal activity in which members of the security forces have been implicated. Vulnerable sections of the population suffered greatly during those years. If political leaders turned a blind eye or actively connived in such crimes they too need to be held accountable under the law. Selective justice will not heal the country. Accountability must apply across the board regardless of political position, ethnicity or institutional power.
Sri Lanka has paid a very heavy price for corruption and impunity. The economic collapse of 2022 did not occur overnight. It was the result of years of bad governance, reckless decision making, abuse of power and the misuse of public wealth. If the country is to move forward the focus cannot be diverted by sensational speculation alone. Suspicious deaths and political intrigue may dominate headlines for a few days. But the larger issue is the system that enabled corruption to flourish without accountability for so long. The real national task is to end that system. Sri Lanka cannot build a prosperous future on a foundation of corruption and impunity. Unless those who looted public wealth are held accountable and the systems that enabled them are dismantled, the country risks repeating the same cycle again.
Jehan Perera
Features
When University systems fail:Supreme Court’s landmark intervention in sexual harassment case
Over seven years after making an initial complaint of sexual harassment against her research supervisor, Dr. Udari Abeyasinghe, then a temporary lecturer and now a senior lecturer at the University of Peradeniya, has been finally served justice. On May 8, 2026, the Supreme Court made the following directions regarding Udari’s fundamental rights case: “1) The 1st Respondent [her research supervisor] is prohibited from accepting any post, whether paid or not or honorary, in any university, educational institute or other academic institution; 2) The UGC to issue a direction to all universities and other institutions, coming under its purview, to abstain from giving any appointment, whether paid or not, or honorary, to the 1st Respondent; and 3) The University of Peradeniya, including the Council and respective Respondent [sic], are directed to take appropriate measures to enforce and raise awareness of the University of Peradeniya’s policy on Sexual or Gender-Based Harassment and Sexual Violence for staff and students, including conducting mandatory annual seminars for all academics, staff and students.” I recently spoke with Udari to learn about her experience battling the University’s sexual and gender-based violence (SGBV) procedures.
Violence and injustice
Udari was a temporary lecturer when she began working on her MPhil degree. Her research supervisor was a Senior Professor and Dean of her faculty. The harassment began in 2017.
When Udari reached out for support to the SGBV Committee of the University of Peradeniya, the Chair explained the complaint procedure, including how a third party could make a complaint on her behalf. In July 2018, Udari’s mother made a written complaint to the Vice Chancellor (VC). “The very next day [my supervisor] called me … and asked me to withdraw the complaint because it would look bad for me … the university should have taken measures to separate the complainant from the perpetrator … but nothing like that happened.”
Before making the formal complaint, Udari reached out to other academic staff at her Faculty. She shared her experience with a few close colleagues. Many advised her to leave the Faculty. “No one in the Faculty supported me publicly, although some sympathised privately … I was a temporary lecturer … no one really cared.” Some of her colleagues and non-academic staff who knew about the harassments, asked her to avoid involving them because they feared retaliation from higher powers.
Udari faced a preliminary inquiry and then a formal inquiry. The preliminary inquiry took place about four months after her complaint, and the inquiry committee recommended proceeding to a formal inquiry. The latter was held about a year after the initial complaint. “I got to know unofficially that [my supervisor] had got hold of all the statements made at the preliminary inquiry and pressured some colleagues to change their statements before the formal inquiry.” During the time of the formal inquiry, an anonymous letter (“kala paththaraya”) was circulated among staff: “It was a character assassination … the same kala paththaraya would get circulated from time to time.” After the formal inquiry committee submitted its report and recommendations, Udari was informed, in writing, that the University Council had dismissed the report.
“Neither the preliminary inquiry report nor the formal inquiry report were shared with me … I had to make a formal request to the VC and only then did I get a copy of the preliminary inquiry report… I had to get the formal inquiry report through an RTI (a request under the Right to Information Act). What I understand is that [my supervisor] had influenced the Council … that’s why they rejected the report…saying there had been a delay of six months to make a complaint ….” (N. B. there are no time limitations for submitting a complaint in the SGBV by-laws of the University of Peradeniya, although such time bars exist at other universities).
Udari then submitted formal complaints to the University Grants Commission (August 2020) and the Human Rights Commission of Sri Lanka (December 2020), and finally filed a fundamental rights case at the Supreme Court in March 2021. Five years later, on May 8th 2026, Udari’s complaint was vindicated.
University procedures and inquiries
When her mother submitted the complaint against her supervisor, Udari was a temporary lecturer. She had given up her dream of pursuing an academic career because she did not think she would be recruited to a permanent position after making a complaint against a faculty member. It is encouraging that Udari was recruited, but in most instances, students and junior staff endure and stay silent to avoid jeopardising their academic careers. We currently have no procedures in place at universities to protect victims and witnesses from backlash.
According to Udari, the former Chair of the SGBV Committee and the members of her preliminary inquiry panel played a crucial role in her case, and, in her words, “could not be influenced.” But SGBV by-laws at state universities place inordinate power in the hands of the Council and VC. According to the SGBV by-laws of the University of Peradeniya, the Council appoints the 15-member SGBV Committee comprising “[t]wo (02) persons from among the members of the Council; [t]en (10) persons drawn from the permanent and senior members of the academic community; and [t]hree (03) persons external to the University, from among the retired academic or administrative staff of the University” (Section 2.1). While the by-laws recommend appointing persons who have demonstrated “gender-sensitivity, proven interest in working on issues of gender equality and equity, and trained to investigate and inquire into cases of sexual or gender-based harassment and sexual violence” (Section 2.1), we know this is often not the case. In many universities, VCs control which cases are taken up and end up in an inquiry. Most students and staff at state universities have little faith in the existing SGBV complaint procedures.
As Udari experienced, the decisions of inquiry committees can be overruled and dismissed by University Councils, indicating the importance of appointing appropriate members to the Councils. The Deans of faculties, who are Ex-officio members, usually collude to protect their own interests and fiefdoms, while the appointment of external members to Councils is deeply politicised. At present, there is no application process or vetting of candidates before they are appointed. They are usually persons who are seen to be sympathetic to the incumbent political dispensation. Furthermore, external members are dependent on the university hierarchy for information on the issues being discussed, the details of which are often hidden from them. It is not surprising then that University Councils would adjudicate on the side of power.
Final recommendation
Beyond barring Udari’s former research supervisor from holding positions in the university system, the Supreme Court has directed the University of Peradeniya to raise awareness on SGBV among staff and students. While SGBV is addressed in the induction courses and orientation programmes at universities, staff and students must be made aware of the nitty-gritties of complaint procedures, including time bars, which were crucial to the outcome of Udari’s case. But is raising awareness sufficient? Do we have ways to hold university authorities accountable for arbitrary and/or prejudicial decision-making and other abuses of power?
For Udari, life continues to be difficult, with constant surveillance of her activities.
“In November 2024 , I shared a post about my case.. it was a newspaper article stating that the Supreme Court had granted leave to proceed… I just took a photograph of it and posted it on my Facebook without any captions… a few weeks later I was summoned by higher authorities…I was informed that several academics had verbally complained about me using my social media to tarnish the name of the faculty and the university and, if that’s the case, that I should know that the University Council has the authority to take action against me … we also spoke briefly about the case and at one point I was told that this incident (harassment) happened to me because I showed some positivity towards (the perpetrator) …”
Let’s hope that university administrations pause before victimising and revictimising SGBV survivors in future. As a community, we have to rethink the hierarchical ways in which universities function and create a meaningful mechanism that supports students and staff to complain without fear of repercussion.
Thank you, Udari, for taking this step forward. University administrations will have to stop, listen and change their ways.
(Ramya Kumar is attached to the Department of Community and Family Medicine, Faculty of Medicine, University of Jaffna, and is an alumna of the University of Peradeniya).
Kuppi is a politics and pedagogy happening on the margins of the lecture hall that parodies, subverts, and simultaneously reaffirms social hierarchies.
By Ramya Kumar
Features
‘Nidahase’ in the spotlight
Senani Wijesena, the Sri Lankan-Australian singer-songwriter, known for fusion pop/R&B with ethnic elements, like the tabla and sitar, is in the news again.
She was featured in The Island, in early April (2026), regarding her career in the music scene, and the release of her first ever Sinhala song ‘Nidahase.’
The song was released in Sri Lanka, on 17th April, with Senani in town to do the needful.
The music video was filmed at the Polgampola Waterfall, in Sri Lanka, and also features co-star Senura Ambegoda … playing the romantic interest.
Describing the setup, Senani had this to say:
“To achieve the high falls scenes, I had to climb large rocks and slippery edges to get to the top of the falls, and I had to do it in the yellow saree I was wearing. Of course the film crew assisted me.”
The initial scenes were filmed in bustling Pettah where Senani meets co-star Senura Ambegoda, working in a street stall, and when their eyes meet it triggers a memory of soul connection and transports her into another world entering the forest scene.
The forest, says Senani, symbolically represented a retreat to nature and peace.
The couple later rejoin at Colombo City Centre where they danced together and enjoyed each other’s company.
Says Senani: “The short dance routine was created on the spot, on set. Senura is a dance teacher, as well as a model and actor, and we learnt the routine, in 10 minutes, before it was filmed.”
‘Nidahase’ means Freedom in English – about being free in life, love, expression and movement.
It’s, in fact, a reworked version of her highly successful English song ‘Free’ which was nominated for a Hollywood Music In Media award in the RNB/Soul category, and also reached the Top 20 of the Music Week Dance charts in the UK.
‘Nidahase’ can be heard on all streaming platforms, including Spotify, Apple Music and Amazon.
Senani’s YouTube channel is www.youtube.com/senanimusic
Her social media pages are: www.instagram.com/senanimusic and www.facebook.com/senanimusic. Her website is www.senani.com
For the record, Senani is the daughter of film actress Jeevarani Kurukulasuriya and Dr Lanka Wijesena.
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